Once everything was ready, Gauss and Alia waited in Grayrock Town for a few more days.
In those few days, the weather steadily turned colder.
At last, the notice they’d been waiting for arrived: the Adventurer’s Guild was calling everyone to assemble for the final muster.
On Grayrock’s main avenue—
The townspeople stayed off the street, leaving the cleared thoroughfare to the Winter Hunt column as it prepared to march out.
Residents crowded their windows, peering out with a mix of curiosity and awe.
Bronze-ranked adventurers—rare sights on ordinary days—now flowed together in a steady stream.
Children, seeing such a send-off for the first time, shouted with excitement.
On the street, adventurers clustered in twos and threes, waiting to climb into wagon beds.
Some Bronze adventurers chose to ride their own mounts.
Gauss stood at the roadside and glanced toward the head of the column—only for his gaze to be drawn, almost against his will, to the figures at the very front: the Grayrock Adventurer’s Guildmaster, Eberhard—the man who had cowed the entire meeting hall with an invisible pressure, whom Gauss had tentatively judged the strongest professional he’d yet encountered.
Eberhard sat a magnificent white horse.
But it wasn’t the man or the horse that held Gauss’s eyes—it was the wondrous creature pacing beside them.
Perhaps because he was leading the force, Eberhard wasn’t riding the griffin. Even so, anyone could see the bond between the two.
Gauss wasn’t the only one watching it. Quite a few Bronze adventurers in the lines were sneaking glances as well.
As mounts go—especially flying mounts—griffins are impossible to ignore.
Lion’s body, eagle’s head and forequarters: its front half was that of a giant eagle cloaked in dark-golden plumage, its hooked beak curved like black iron; its hindquarters were an amber-maned lion, the thick tail lashing the air with a hunting snap.
Beyond its powerful frame, the griffin wore a helm and breastplate that shimmered with a strange light, and a rider’s saddle had been fitted at the waist—adding even more to its imposing presence.
Even at a distance, it looked ferociously strong.
And since Grayrock and the surrounding lowlands weren’t the sort of terrain griffins frequented—they tended to keep to mountain peaks, building nests of branches, leaves, and the bones of prey atop sheer cliffs—it was the first time Gauss, like many others, had seen such a creature with his own eyes.
“I wonder what a griffin like that goes for,” he thought—likely because he’d been planning to buy a mount himself lately. The thought popped up the instant he saw it.
“It must be some astronomical figure.”
A mount of that caliber was still far, far out of his reach. Even with money, without the strength to match, taming something so fiercely wild was unlikely.
And really, as flying mounts go, griffins weren’t the most outrageous.
If his memory was right, this world had dragon riders—true, pure-blooded dragons, not just wyverns.
In raw value, a dragon mount was beyond reckoning.
As the gathering continued, the bustling force finally took shape: over a hundred Bronze adventurers, a dozen-odd vetted elite low-tier adventurers allowed to participate, and a massive logistics train of supply wagons, all together filling the entire long street.
The sight made Gauss’s heart surge; as a member of the column, even he felt a little swept up.
He and Alia climbed into one of the wagons.
Alia was still crouched at the tailboard, telling the gray wolf Ulfen to keep to the wheels, mind the crowds, and not get separated.
Gauss lifted the canvas flap of the wagon’s window.
On the window ledges of the buildings to either side, townsfolk—knowing these Bronzes were marching to cull the monster forces massing in the forest before winter truly set in—were flushed with excitement at the rare spectacle of a crack column and its fantastical beasts. They waved with both hands and shouted their farewells at the top of their lungs.
Most of the adventurers, eager to start harvesting monsters and coin, were in good spirits as well, and waved back to the residents lining the road.
Gauss, too, let himself sink into the festive air.
The convoy began to roll.
The long train rumbled over the cobbles with a heavy, even grind.
Gauss was just about to duck back inside when, as his gaze swept past a tavern doorway, he caught a handful of familiar faces.
Laevin, the swordsman apprentice Doyle, the archer Oliver, the cleric Daphne—and Meva.
The members of the Night Owl party were standing there, waving at him with all their might.
Gauss’s mouth tugged upward; he leaned half his body out at once and waved back just as hard.
They seemed to be calling something, but the distance was too great; the clatter of wheels and the roar of the crowd drowned their voices out. Chapters first released on N()velFire.net
“So glorious! If one day I get to march out to cheers like that, I could die happy,” Doyle said, green with envy.
“Pah, pah—don’t you jinx him just because you can’t stand to see Gauss doing well!”
“What? No, I meant me… Ah—do you think he heard us say to come back for a drink?”
“Whose fault is it we haven’t met up? Meva’s been saying she wants to see Gauss, but you wouldn’t swallow your pride—you were scared of losing face, so you never agreed,” Oliver said coolly.
“I’m the only one? What about you and Laevin?”
By the time Gauss’s wagon rolled out of sight, the group was already laughing and bickering.
Gauss sat back inside and steadied himself.
“Why is the send-off so grand this year?” Alia settled onto the bench and shook her head, speaking softly.
“It isn’t usually ?” Gauss was a little surprised.
“No. At least last year when I joined, it wasn’t,” Alia said. “If you knew where to listen, you could learn we were marching, but we assembled and departed outside the town.”
Gauss’s expression cleared. That explained it—he had been in Grayrock around this time last winter; no wonder there was no memory of a parade like today’s.
“Maybe it’s to boost morale,” she added after a pause.
“Since the legendary Sword Saint fell, I’ve been hearing rumors that in the next few years we could see a war with the monsters. For border towns like ours, right up against monster territory, people are on edge. Those with means are already planning to move inland where it’s safer.”
“Maybe the Guild’s trying to use this spectacle to give folks a little faith—to hang on.”